


Untitled Prison!AU

by hestherewithme



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-08-04
Packaged: 2018-04-13 00:27:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4500741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hestherewithme/pseuds/hestherewithme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You could call it a PrisonBreak!AU, even though this has nothing to do with the storyline. I was discussing this scenario with a couple of folks who also saw Chris and Darren as those characters and decided to actually write it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chris could never have imagined, when he began studying medicine, that he would end up working at a prison.

Two years, that’s how long he’d worked at this facility.

It was terrifying at first, being around hardened criminals, hearing stories of what each convicted felon had done to get into prison. He always trembled in fear, imagining situations where some had to face them everyday in the prison yard, or god forbid a jail cell.

But it got easier when he began seeing the men as patients, nothing more. He didn’t talk to them about anything other than their predicament and how he could help. He stopped listening to the taunts and blocked out the lewd comments some creeps would give him.

That’s why Chris wouldn’t talk to them at all, he couldn’t humanize them, or give them sympathy. Just administer care, prescribe pills, or advise them. Until he met Darren.

He seemed new here, at least at the medical wing. Chris was certain he’d never seen him before. He was screaming in pain, and Chris assessed the damage. Broken arm.

Chris went into autopilot, instructing the guards who brought him in to hold him down as he reset his bone.

After that the guy passed out. And Chris was there when he woke up.

Darren’s eyes blinked open, slowly lifting his head from the upright pillow he was resting against. His left wrist, belonging to the unbroken arm, was handcuffed to the side of the gurney.

His hands looked ill-suited for those shackles, like they were meant for some form of craft.

“Hello there.” Chris said carefully, making sure he was awake.

“Hi.” Darren grumbled, wincing when looking at his own arm. “That bad, huh?”

“It’ll heal soon, don’t worry about it.” Chris assured him. “I’m Dr. Colfer.”

“Colfer? Doesn’t suit you…Can I call you  _doc_?” Darren smiled. And it wasn’t one of the the menacing looks he was used to. It was sweet.

“Chris. You can call me Chris, if you’d like.”

“Much better. I’m Darren, and I’d shake your hand, but as you can see, both are a little preoccupied.”

“It’s…It’s okay…” Chris said.

“So why am I still here?” Darren asked immediately. “Aren’t you supposed to fix me up and send me back to my cell?”

Chris hesitated before answering, “I…Yes, that’s protocol. And…I…I don’t usually do this, but, there are bruises on your arm. Those that aren’t typical to a fight.”

“Bruises aren’t typical to a fight? You sure you’re a doctor?” Darren challenged.

Chris would have answered back angrily, but detected the teasing tone in Darren’s question. He wasn’t trying to get a rise out of Chris or make him uncomfortable.

“They are. But yours didn’t come from any punches in a yard fight. These look like marks from a baton, which last I checked, weren’t given to inmates.”

Darren’s demeanor suddenly changed, he lost his slight smile and stopped looking at him in the eye.

“Darren. I need to know, did a guard do this?” Chris didn’t even know why he was asking. Why he cared so much…Maybe it was because of how out of place this man seemed here. He was small, physically small. He didn’t have the attitude and anger that most inmates did.

“Listen doc…Chris. The only reason I’ve survived this long in this shit-hole is because I know when I have to keep my mouth shut. And as much as I don’t want to, I can’t talk to you. Not about that.”

Chris stopped himself for a second and simply looked at the man. He had the same look that Chris did in his first week here. Terror. He was frightened, and not because of the other convicts; no, he was scared of the correctional officers.

“Okay.” Chris understood. Trust was a tough thing to gain inside a prison, but he believed he could get through to Darren.

“Okay?”

“You don’t have to tell me. But you don’t have to go back to your cell immediately, either.”

Darren raised his eyebrows, but knew better than to argue against it. Inmates hardly ever got treated with this much respect and care.

“So do you wanna talk sports?” Darren asked.

“Not much expertise in that I’m afraid.” Chris said as an excuse, when Darren didn’t continue the conversation, Chris prompted “So how’d you get in here?”

“Ah, the golden question. Worried I’m some sort of maniac serial killler?” Darren asked.

“You certainly look the part.” Chris answered with a smirk.

Darren gaped mockingly, and looked like he wanted to move his hands in accordance with his expression, but couldn’t

“I’m sorry about that, it’s just…” Chris said, looking at the cuffs.

“Procedure, I know. But you didn’t seem to give a damn about that when keeping me here.”

“The only reason they’ll let you stay here, is if you keep those on.”

“Fair trade I guess. As long as we can keep talking.” Darren said sincerely.

And Chris didn’t feel his defensive walls go up, to his surprise. Chris didn’t know if it was because the man said it so earnestly, or because those golden eyes were clouding his judgement.

Chris trusted his instincts, knew they hardly ever failed him. And they told him that this man wasn’t dangerous, he’d probably never harmed another being in his life.

“We can.” Chris said.

Darren took a deep breath and said, “Accused of grand larceny.”

“Accused?”

“Yeah, that’s what they tried me for.”

“And you got incarcerated…” Chris continued for him, and immediately regretting it, based on the look he got from Darren.

“I think I should go…” Darren said quietly.

“Okay…”

“I know that you didn’t need to do this.” he said, nodding to the space between them. “People in this place, they aren’t like this…”

“You’re welcome, Darren.” Chris supplied, hoping to ease his obvious discomfort about such a topic.

* * *

That evening Chris called in a favor. The warden of the penitentiary was a close friend of his fathers, almost like an uncle to Chris. When Chris had first gotten this job, he’d offered Chris unconditional advice and care. Chris never wanted to take advantage of that man’s power and influence, but he figured he could make an exception. Especially if it would help another person, and not himself.

The next day, the prison coincidentally had a ‘random’ investigation done. And after many of the officers faced threats of losing their job, a few gave in and ratted out a particularly brutal guard. That same guard had a tendency to take his anger out on most of the younger and less-threatening inmates.

Chris considered it a service done to both the prison, and humanity in general, to have such a person out of a position of authority.

* * *

The second time he met Darren was to take his cast off.

“And how are we doing today?” Chris asked, as the guard left the room. Chris had requested that Darren didn’t need to be in cuffs, and surprisingly the officer agreed. 

“Never better.” Darren answered cheerfully.

He was ill-suited for his surroundings, smiling in a prison of all places. But as much as Chris didn’t want to admit it, that smile was definitely lightening up the usually drab environment. And though he didn’t want any gratitude, Chris also considered that smile a form of thanks for what he’d done. 

“And you?” Darren said as soon as Chris reached for the cast.

“Me?” Chris paused to see if Darren was serious about that question. He was. “I’m good.”

Chris carefully cut open the cast from the side, while keeping Darren’s arm steady.

“Ugh, it smells terrible, sorry” Darren remarked, making a face.

“It’s not that bad.” Chris said, “Now, can you lift your arm up?”

“Yeah.” Darren said, while testing it out. They did a few exercises, Chris asking him to lift up a few light-weight objects to test his strength.

“You’ll get back full control, just don’t put to much stress on it okay?”

“Got it.”

“Well. I think that’s it for today…” Chris said, trailing off.

“Any other patients you’ve got to attend to?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Can we talk? Like last time?”

“Umm.” Chris glanced outside, and saw the guard having a chat with one of his assistants. They seemed somewhat passionate about whatever was the topic of conversation, so Chris deducted that he and Darren had a bit of time. 

Darren must have noticed that before, and therefore brought the idea up.

“Yeah. Anything you’d like to talk about in particular?”

“Not really. I just…I like to hear you talking. It’s a pleasant distraction.”

“From?”

“Everything. Everything inside there…” he said, nodding his head towards the main building of the prison.

“Oh. Yeah. Of course…”

Chris understood. He understood Darren’s fear. At the end of the day Chris got to leave this place and walk back home. For a few hours he was able to forget that a place like this, and the people in it, existed.

But Darren didn’t get to do that. He had to face it 24 hours a day. He’d been living through it for four years. Yeah, Chris read his file the day after his broken arm. Darren hadn’t killed anyone, which was always an upside, in comparison to the rest of his patients. He was in for the shortest sentence possible, five years.

“One year left to go…” Chris said out loud.

“You read up on me?” Darren asked with a half-hearted smile.

“Sorry. I just wanted to know…”

“Curiosity’s gotten the better of me quite a few times. You could even say it landed me in here.”

“Really?” Chris said, hoping Darren would tell him what happened.

“That. And really bad friends…” Darren said, not explaining any further. And Chris took take a hint.

When Chris didn’t say anything in response, Darren asked “Why do you care so much?”

“What?”

“Why do you care about my story. About  _me._  There’s loads of us in here, all with stories and excuses…I just wanna know.”

“I…I’m a doctor. I guess it’s just in my nature to care.”

“You talk to everyone like this?”

Chris paused, but then answered honestly, “No.”

“So why?” Darren asked, not really phrasing it like a question.

It was as though he knew why Chris was doing this. How it felt physically impossible to ignore this man and treat him just like everyone else.  But he wasn’t able to voice his thoughts.

“Move it Criss!” an order erupted from the doorway, accompanied by loud banging on the doorframe.

“I’m coming, boss.” Darren said.

“There’s no need to yell.” Chris remarked at the unnecessarily raucous sentry, while Darren stepped off the gurney carefully.

“Yeah, and maybe there’s no need for him to be outta cuffs…” he responded, yanking Darren away and slapping the handcuffs on him.

* * *

“So you just happened to take a nasty fall. Again?”

This was the third time Darren had come in, with wounds just bad enough to get him a visit with Chris’. This time the guard was much friendlier than the last few, most likely a rookie, not experienced enough for this line of work. 

“What can I say? I’ve been having a pretty unlucky week.” Darren said, wincing as Chris applied rubbing alcohol to sanitize the cut on his forehead.

“Uh huh…” Chris nodded, not believing a word of what he said.

But I guess all these conversations with you is the universe’s way of making it up to me.” Darren grinned.

Chris tried to hide the smile that Darren was so obviously trying to get out of him, while applying the bandage and throwing away his plastic gloves.

“Done. Anything else I can do for you?” Chris asked.

“Help me escape?”

Chris nearly fell off his stool when he heard that, not even acknowledging the fact that Darren could be joking.

“Don’t do that.” he whispered harshly and looking around. “Do you know what would happen if you were caught? Ten more years on your sentence. Ten!”

“I was kidding.” Darren defended himself. “I’m not that stupid.”

Chris breathed out of his nose, trying to calm himself down.

“Chris…” Darren said softly, impulsively reaching out and comfort him. But stopped midway, and pulled his hand back. Fear of rejection was apparently more effective than physical handcuffs. 

“Do you know why the last doctor who worked here got fired?” Chris said quietly. 

“I’ve heard some stories…” he replied, still concerned about Chris’ reaction.

“She was a female, the first and last they employed at this prison. I thought it was incredibly sexist at first. But she fell for an inmate. May have even helped him escape. Turns out he was innocent, and he was eventually exonerated, but she still took the fall.”

Darren stayed silent, letting Chris say what he needed to.

“So they thought by only hiring men, they could avoid another incident like that one.”

Darren looked as though he’d been crushed. He cast his eyes downward, thinking he understood what Chris was trying to tell him.

“Except I lied.” Chris said looking around, “I mean, I lied by omission, there was no question in there about my sexuality.”

Darren’s head immediately shot upwards at that confession, but still didn’t speak, because he knew that at any moment Chris could say something that had the power to shatter him.

“It’s stupid. I mean, I can control myself and my emotions. I know what people in here are like, and how I’m supposed to behave around them. Its part of my profession, and that’s why I didn’t say anything.” Chris breathed. “And then you had to come in, with your broken arm and fucking adorable smiles and out-of-place charm, and it scared me. ”

“Oh.” Darren whispered, because Chris had taken the words right out of his mouth. 

“So when you talked about escaping, my mind just went to that scenario, and all I could think of was  _ten years_.” Chris finished, closing his eyes.

“I-”

“You don’t have to say anything Darren, I…umm. It’s unprofessional and…”

“I never hurt anyone.”

“What?” Chris asked.

“You said you know what the people in here are like. So do I. But I’m not like that, I promise. I never hurt anyone. I don’t even think I’m capable of that.”

“I believe you.” Chris said, and softly held Darren’s hand. He’d believed it from day one, but Darren’s confirmation was welcomed. 

“Really?” Darren’s eyes lit up, glancing momentarily at their hands. And Chris realized just how much Darren needed that. Just needed someone to have a little faith in him.

“Yes.”

“I wanted you to know. It’s important that you know that.” Darren said, slowly allowing himself to express his joy, not making any effort to pull his hand away.

“Well, now I do, and…” Chris nervously chuckled, “and I probably just made a fool of myself telling you how I fel—“ Chris was cut off by Darren. Darren kissing him, to be more specific. And he couldn’t find it in himself to do anything other than kiss him back.

When they broke apart Darren quickly glanced past Chris, to check for any onlookers. The young C.O had turned the other way, most likely because he didn’t know how to react to what was happening.

“I know that this is probably the last place you’d want someone kiss you, but…”

“I’m glad you did.” Chris said without thinking. “I mean, this goes against every possible rule this place has, not to mention my own principles, but I find myself not giving a shit.”

“I won’t tell anyone. If someone says anything just say that I kissed you…” Darren said fearfully, realizing the weight of his actions. “I mean, I know that I kissed you, but just say something that won’t get you into trouble, okay?”

It was touching how Darren was ready to deal with a penalty, rather than have Chris worry about his job. An indication of his virtue and heart, which Chris was sure he’d find more examples of in the future.

“I’ll be fine.” Chris comforted him, and caught sight of another guard entering from the main door. “I think our time is nearly up for today.”

“Yeah.”

“Well. Please don’t get injured again, at least for a while. Fake stomach pains or something, if you wanna see me so bad.” Chris said, inciting a grin from Darren as he was standing up.

“Chris. Would you wait for me?”

“What?”

“When I’m out. I’d love to take you somewhere nice. So…would you wait?”

Chris took a moment to comprehend what he’d been asked ; to wait for a convict to finish his sentence so he could take him out on a date. A beautiful convict. One who’s request Chris’ heart could not bear to deny.

“Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not exactly a sequel, but rather Darren’s POV with a bit what happened after  
> part of the Crisscolfer prison!AU, so there’s prison related themes, slight mentions of violence

_Five years._

That was the only thought running through his mind after he’d heard ‘ _Guilty’._ Everything happened too fast after that.

Cuffs. Guards. Invasive search. Changing into prisoner slacks. Cuffs. Back of a truck. Scarier guards. High walls. Very invasive search.

Darren remembered the cold shower though, all inmates we’re sprayed with a powerful hose that left the person dazed and shivering from the freezing temperature and pressure. They said it was a safety procedure, but Darren knew what it was. An intimidation technique, a form of torture, a way to remind all the newcomers who was in charge.

The worst part was when he was led up to his cell. It was the first time he got a look at most of the inmates. There were easily identifiable groups; but there were certain ones who sent a shiver of fear down his spine. Those were the ones who called out to him.

“We got a  _boy_  in here fellas. A real pretty one.” a raspy voice emerged from some cell in the back. Some hoots, cheers and clanging erupted from everywhere. Behind him, cells on higher levels. Darren clenched his fists and tried to stop himself from visibly shaking. If they saw that he was scared, that would be the end of him.

Darren was actually grateful to get his own cell that evening, it being the safest place in the entire facility. It was awfully small, and even though that was expected Darren never imagined it to be this tiny. Within the cell, there was a bunk bed a toilet hidden behind it, a small table and a small broken wall-mirror.

His cellmate stood in a military-like stance, facing away from the bars and had his hands in plain sight.  He didn’t say a word, but gave an angry stare to the guard who told him to ‘ _play nice with the new kid.’_

As soon as the guard left, his roommate’s posture relaxed and told Darren that he wasn’t going to touch him, if that’s what he was worried about. Darren shook his head furiously, not wanting to even bring up that possibility.

Ten minutes later, Darren heard a voice yelling “LIGHTS OUT!” through a speaker, and almost instantaneously everything around him became dark. Except for a few tube-lights near the exit of the cell-block, he was surrounded by complete darkness.

Darren waited until he heard his cellmate’s breathing become regular, confirming that he was asleep. And then he began to sob into his pillow.

* * *

Darren learned the rules fairly quickly. Don’t argue with the guards, don’t go into the showers unless there’s someone you can call to for help, keep your head low, and never owe anyone. He followed these rules and survived. That’s what he aimed for. Survival.

He got pushed around a couple of times on the yard, because of his stature, but eventually taught himself when to run and when to stay.

And Darren had followed rules fairly well. Doing so had kept him alive for four years. He stopped counting how long he had halfway through his the second one. He’d gotten accustomed to the walls surrounding him, the routine and nightly checks. He’d lost his touch with the outside world, and if he was honest, almost felt a little afraid of it.

That’s what isolation did. Getting separated from the outside world so abruptly and severely made sense if you thought about keeping a society safe from harm. But sometimes it would work the other way around.

Criminals released would often find there way back in. They’d find it difficult to adapt to life outside the prison, and would often commit the same (or in some cases), bigger crimes, just to get back into jail. Because that’s what they would call home.

Darren had never wanted to get to that point; where a jail cell would seem more appealing than freedom. At times he almost did.

* * *

Darren’s life in prison was somewhat easier thanks to his cellmate, known as ‘J’ (he never liked telling people his name), which Darren considered the greatest blessing he could receive in a place like this.

Other inmates were scared of him, Darren heard many stories of why that was. Multiple counts of murder, assault, violence. It was a different story every time, but Darren had a hard time believing any of them. ‘J’ didn’t seem to be the violent type, but let such rumors exist solely for the purpose of instilling terror.

“Let them think what they want, as long as you stay out of people’s way, you’ll be fine.”

* * *

Darren would usually stay behind the large benches in the yard, watching a basketball game or humming some tune to himself. It was away from the sights of most of the more menacing inmates, who scoured the courtyards, looking for someone to harass or pick a fight with.

For some reason the guards never said a word to them. Darren was told that most of the guards would accept bribes from them, in exchange for letting them get away with misdemeanors (which often included having their victims sent to the infirmary).

“Feast your eyes on the newbie.” said one.

The taunt came from nearby, and even though it had been nearly four years, Darren still thought those comments were directed at him.

“Young, aint he?” came a reply.

But they weren’t talking to him, they were pestering another inmate. Darren was about to leave quietly, let him deal with it, as he had. But he stopped when he got a look at the kid. And that’s exactly what he was, a kid. Defenseless, skinny and alone. The perfect prey. He had the same look in his eyes that Darren did his entire first year.

“I—I don’t want any trouble.” he said, with a trembling tone, glancing around, hoping someone would back him up.

“We aren’t looking for any trouble either. In fact, we wanna be  _friends…_ ” another cackled.

And as much as it went against the rules, Darren stepped in. “How about you leave him alone?”

“Oh look at this!  Two for one, guess it’s our lucky day boys.” their  _leader_  sneered, looking back and forth between the two.

“You know that if you lay a hand on me, you’re gonna have to deal with J.” Darren didn’t even know if that was true, J had never promised him any aid whatsoever, but sometimes even the mention of his cellmate’s name was enough to make others wary.

Most of the group looked at one another, and seemed to retreat. Except one.

“You know, there are some people who aren’t afraid of your big, bad roommate?” he muttered before walking away.

“Thanks.” the boy said, from behind Darren. “Who’s Jay?”

“Nobody.” Darren said, turning around. “Just stay away from those guys okay?”

“Got it.”

* * *

Darren understood the threatening message the next day. He didn’t even realize what happened. One moment he was walking past the chain linked fence, and the next he was grabbed by the collar of his shirt and taken into the nearby shed.

They weren’t any inmates around, which Darren was ready to face, but the officer who was in charge of yard duty.

He didn’t say a word, but pulled out his baton, and slammed it into Darren’s side. Darren wanted to scream but before he could he felt another blow. This one was on his right forearm and he heard a  _snap._

* * *

Darren woke up in a brightly lit room, and the first thing he saw was a face. In the time it took him to process his surroundings, Darren’s brain had momentarily accepted that he’d died. The angel in a doctor’s lab coat seemed to confirm his belief.

But then common sense took over, and he realized he was most likely in the infirmary. And that ethereal being was not a figment of his imagination, but a doctor.

Chris. His name was Chris, and simply hearing him speak was enough for Darren to forget about his broken arm.

When Darren was taken back to his cell that night, all he could remember were Chris’ kind words, the swoop of his hair and the slight dimple that appeared when he smirked. For the first time since he entered the prison, Darren went to sleep with a smile on his face.

* * *

Meeting Chris became a mission for Darren. He wanted to spend every moment he had in that infirmary. His situation was a weird one. Getting into fights crossed his mind, but he couldn’t predict the outcome of those. He wanted to be conscious and make the most of his time spent with Chris.

Falling, slamming into walls and occasional recklessness were his reasons. The only way he could meet Chris was by getting into accidents, painful enough to get him into the infirmary, but not too damaging.

Even though Darren knew it wasn’t fair to Chris, he couldn’t help it. It was easy to give up in prison, to abandon all faith of things ever getting better. But Chris unknowingly became a beacon of hope for Darren.

And after a few visits, he had to let him know.

* * *

Kissing Chris went much better than Darren expected. Worst case scenario would have been Chris freaking out and calling a guard. A week in solitary confinement could have also been a possibility.

But he didn’t have to worry about that.

The moment Chris had voiced how he felt, Darren took the opportunity to show him. He was a big believer in actions speaking louder than words.

* * *

Ever since meeting Chris, Darren truly understood the aspect of  _time_  in prison.

When there was nobody out there for you, time wasn’t important. Months would pass as a blur, and most wouldn’t care enough to know the date.

If he was honest, a weight had been lifted off his chest when Chris responded ‘yes’ to his request. He would wait, but Darren hated that Chris had to, because of him.

But fate, luck, or some deity was looking out for him because the he was reminded of a simple procedure, that if executed correctly could get him out of this prison for good.

* * *

“You wanna file a request for parole?” the warden asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes, sir.”

“With a year left to go?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are aware that you were allowed to file for parole after a couple of years into your sentence?”

“Yes, sir”

“But you didn’t?”

“No, sir.”

“You’re gonna need to know more than three words if you want that request to go through.” the warden said, but didn’t say so in a menacing tone.

Darren almost smiled, but wasn’t sure if it was the time or place.

“I’ll take a look at it, and do my best to help. You’ve been good here, not getting into much trouble. I don’t want to make any promises, but I think it’ll work out for you.”

Darren thanked him, and waited to be escorted back to his cell.

* * *

He didn’t tell Chris. Couldn’t. Darren realized that the only thing that would hurt him more than the request not going through, was disappointing Chris.

So he waited. And before he knew it, his request was approved, the board conducted an interview and assessment and his case worker informed him that it was all over.

He was going to be free.

Well, sort of. There were conditions. He had to hold a job. Not even think about breaking a law. No drugs. No alcohol. Check in with a parole officer weekly. But he’d be outside the prison. He’d be free enough.

* * *

He still didn’t tell Chris. Even when he stepped outside those walls for the first time in four years.

 _‘Not like this…’_ Darren told himself.  _‘I’ll make some money, first. Take him out to a nice place. Like I would have done before.,,’_

His parole officer had been in charge of providing him with an approved workplace; bagging groceries wasn’t the worst job he had. He also made a mental note to ask if he could apply for other jobs besides that one.

And so it began. The daily routine outside of a cell. No blaring microphones or checks in the middle of the night. No haunting voices calling to him.

No Chris.

It had now been three weeks since he’d last seen him. Twenty-one long days since he’d heard his laughter. Darren would count the minutes between their conversations back in prison.

So Darren decided to let go of the bit of pride that was delaying the opportunity to see Chris. He missed his doctor.

* * *

The penitentiary looked different from the outside. Less threatening if you were blissfully unaware of the terrors inside. Chris should have been heading out any moment now. Driving past the main gates, or walking towards the bus stop. Either way he would be able to see Darren.

And a few minutes later, Darren saw him. Carrying a messenger bag and looking around for passing cars. He seemed to be taking the bus today.

“Darren?” Chris said quietly, frowning in confusion.

“Hey,” Darren waved meekly.

“You…” he dropped his messenger bag to his side and walked up to him. Darren expected a hug, but instead Chris grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “What the hell are you doing outside? How’d you get out?  Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? You didn’t show up at the infirmary, which I understood, you were probably running out of illnesses or something…and then another week…”

Darren didn’t say a word, letting Chris finish his rant.

“And then I dared to ask about you, and you know what a guard told me? That bastard, he said ‘ _that guy isn’t here any more_ ’. God, I thought something happened…I was ready to just ask the warden, job be damned, because I’d have to explain why I was so worried about you…What happened?”

Darren simply smiled in response, hoping that would calm Chris down. It did.

“So I can speak now?”

Chris slightly frowned in response, but he was also masking a grin, so Darren knew it was okay.

“Should we get away from here first?” Chris interrupted him before he could say anything, glancing at his workplace. “I know it’s been a while, but I have a feeling this is the last place you want to be.”

Darren huffed out a laugh and nodded, wondering how in a span of a few weeks, Chris could know him so well.

As they walked, Darren spoke. “Well, I promised you something, but that would have taken a year. And I realized patience wasn’t in my nature. So I filed for parole and it worked. Its over, as long as I don’t get into any trouble, I’m good.”

They stopped on the corner of a street, waiting for the signal to turn red, and Darren continued.

“You know that the first opportunity for parole is usually halfway into a sentence.”

“Yeah. I just…It’s weird Chris. Once you’re in there, you start to give up. You pine for freedom, and once you’re out here, there’s nothing for you. People build lives in there, most just accept it. I mean, I had a relatively short sentence, but I realized how much the environment has an impact on me. I’m practically a reflection of what I surround myself with. In there, I was as messed up as they wanted me to be.”

Chris didn’t say a word, but slowly reached for Darren’s hand as they crossed the street. The same action he’d done to comfort him in the infirmary.

“But I gotta say. The greatest thing that happened in that goddamned place, was breaking my arm.”

This time it was Chris who couldn’t contain himself, and practically swept up Darren in a kiss. Pleasantly surprised, Darren wrapped his arms around his waist, and kissed back.

Darren couldn’t believe it, but this kiss was almost better than the first. It could have been the fact that there was no threat of guards, or lingering fear of inmates, or time limiting their interactions.

All that occupied his world at that moment was Chris. And Darren was determined to keep it that way.


End file.
